ld
pray!

The next morning he went with a full purse into the city, returning
elegantly dressed, and with neatly-arranged locks. The peinador had
given his budding moustache a bold twist upward.

He still looked thin and somewhat awkward, but the tall youth promised
to become a stately man.

CHAPTER XX.

Towards noon Coello called Ulrich into Moor's former studio; the youth
could not fail to observe its altered appearance.

Long cartoons, containing sketches of figures, large paintings, just
commenced or half-finished, leaned against the easels; mannikins,
movable wooden horse's heads, and plaster-models stood on the floor, the
tables, and in the windows. Stuffs, garments, tapestries, weapons
hung over the backs of the chairs, or lay on chests, tables and the
stone-floor. Withered laurel-wreaths, tied with long ribbons, fluttered
over the mantel-piece; one had fallen, dropped over the bald head of
Julius Caesar, and rested on the breast.

The artist's six cats glided about among the easels, or stretched their
limbs on costly velvet and Arabian carpets.

In one corner stood a small bed with silk curtains--the nursery of the
master's pets. A magnificent white cat was suckling her kittens in it.

Two blue and yellow cockatoos and several parrots swung screaming in
brass hoops before the open window, and Coello's coal-black negro crept
about, cleaning the floor of the spacious apartment, though it was
already noon. While engaged in this occupation, he constantly shook his
woolly head, displaying his teeth, for his master was singing loudly at
his work, and the gaily-clad African loved music.

What a transformation bad taken place in the Netherlander's quiet,
orderly, scrupulously neat studio! But, even amid this confusion,
admirable works were created; nay, the Spaniard possessed a much more
vivid imagination, and painted pictures, containing a larger number of
figures and far more spirited than Moor's, though they certainly were
not pervaded by the depth and earnestness, the marvellous fidelity to
nature, that characterized those of Ulrich's beloved master.

Coello called the youth to the easel, and pointing to the sketches in
color, containing numerous figures, on which he was painting, said:

"Look here, my son. This is to be a battle of the Centaurs, these are
Parthian horsemen;--Saint George and the Dragon, and the Crusaders are
not yet finished. The king wants the Apocalyptic riders too. Deuce
take